Community Corner

Recycled Resources Holds Homeless Outreach Event

The program attempts to build relationships with the area's homeless.

Equipped with a truck filled with supplies--ranging from new underwear, to toiletries to chili dogs--Recycled Resources organizer Rebecca Prine and about a half dozen volunteers used the donations to build relationships with the homeless who loitered about Veterans Square Memorial.

There was Dan, 28, who walked with a limp due to a boot-cast on his foot. Dan explained that he had lacerated the bottom of his foot after attempting to crush a can of Monster energy drink.

A graduate of Eagle Rock high school, Dan said he's been homeless for three years. He has a son; he used to have a fiancee. He doesn't see either too often anymore, though.

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Dan doesn't drink, he swears. He carries an Alcoholics Anonymous card as proof. His reasons for coming to the memorial are vague. He said he wants to be by his family, in case an accident should happen. He's had a lot of costly accidents in his life, he said; that's how he ended up on the street.

According to Prine, Dan exhibits some of the signs of schizophrenia, a common diagnosis among the homeless. According to the Schizophrenia Treatment Advocacy Center, one-third of the nation's 600,000 homeless suffer from the mental illness.

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Dan said he has never taken medication, though.

Not Comfortable

Across from the square, Jacqueline Sheffield was parked in the lot of the .

Unlike many of the area's homeless, Sheffield has a truck, which allows her to get around the neighborhood.

She drives to Eagle Rock, where she pays $1.50 to shower at the public pool. There's a church on Figueroa where she can wash her clothes. She recently took a drive to Union Station in Pasadena, a social services agency for the homeless which also provides emergency shelter.

"I didn't feel comfortable there," she said. "The people seemed a little scary."

Like many of the occupants who were evicted from the square, Sheffield said she's unsure of where to go next. She's spent a lot of time driving around, trying not to spend too much time in one place. 

"I just drove around, wasting my gasoline," she said. "I don't know why they don't let me stay here. This is the senior center, and I'm a senior. I don't bother anyone. I don't play my music loud." 

Sheffield said she stays near the square so she can be close to her brother, Gary Sheffield, a Vietnam veteran who has been sleeping there for close to a year.

On Saturday, Jacqueline is dressed in pink pajama pants and a hooded sweatshirt. Her hair, various hues of gray and black, falls to her shoulders.  Jacqueline's face is lined with deep wrinkles, but she's not as tanned as Gary--who spends countless hours beneath the unforgiving Los Angeles sun.

Jacqueline and Gary are both in their 60s, though neither shares their exact age.

She said she's been warned by the police to not park her truck at the senior center. The registration is expired, she said, and the police have threatened to impound it.

Her eyes well up with tears when she's asked to explain why she needs to stay so close to Gary.

"I'm going to leave my brother alone. And where am I going to go, alone? We lost our mother, four years ago, February 2nd," she said. "We're not doing anything wrong. I don't understand. Just because we're homeless, they treat us like this. It's unfair. And there is nothing we can do about it."

The Sheffield siblings are among about the half dozen homeless who have returned to the square following last week's eviction.

"Everybody just scattered after the cops came," Gary Sheffield said.

He stayed close to the square, though. The corner of Figueroa and York is prime real estate, he explained. With the and nearby, he's able to provide himself with life's basic amenities. 

Across the street, a 53-year-old woman with dark black hair named Caroline sat on a stairway near the and spoke to Prine.

Like many of Highland Park's homeless, she grew up in neighborhood. She graduated from , less than a mile away from the intersection she currently calls home.

Her daughters live in the neighborhood, but they don't see her too often. She says she understand why. 

"I have a lot of respect for my oldest daughter, she's very responsible," Caroline said.

Prine said she was surprised by how much Caroline shared on Saturday afternoon.

"This is the most she's ever talked to us," Prine said. "She told us that she's been seeing a therapist. We've really been encouraging her to do that, because we think it can help her a lot."


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